


Picking up the Pieces

by BipolarPanda



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Bunch of cursing ahoy as well, Drama ahoy!, F/F, Slow Burn, Story has been laying around forever and decided to say screw it and post, Tags should never have been created because of this author, Updates may be slow/nonexistent, WARNING: Lame author who still doesn't know where story is gonna go, ok I'm done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-31 20:49:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8593189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BipolarPanda/pseuds/BipolarPanda
Summary: Max looks down at the photo, focuses on the otherworldly butterfly within its frame, stomach churning as she awaits the pull that will take her back to where it all began. But wait... can she do this? Sacrifice her best friend for the greater good of Arcadia Bay? No... No, there has to be another way! And so as she sits in the bathroom corner, she lifts her hand. Hoping, praying she can go back a few seconds. To the moment right before Chloe is shot.But it doesn't work.This story will follow a Max that deeply regrets the final choice that she made, and also a Victoria who is attempting to come to terms with the actions of her best friend, Nathan Prescott, and the fallout of Chloe's death. Will the two be able to find common ground within this shared experience and pull each other through these dark times?Or will they end up being consumed by the darkness within themselves?





	1. Max

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Hello all! Lately, I've been fixated on this awesome game. Watching all the let's play videos, the fan theories, reading the fanfiction, and it's all made me want to contribute something that I hope will be a little different. And, sorry, but there will be no Pricefield. I love the pairing, but in order to make this fic and the characters easier to handle, Max and Chloe will have had a platonic friendship throughout the game. Yep, I know, I'm lazy.
> 
> This fic will go back and forth between Max's and Victoria's POVs. I think the relationship between them and others after the 'Sacrifice Chloe' would be interesting to look at. Get ready for the angst. Forewarning, though, I have never really written anything too angsty (and when I have, I usually cringe after reading it again) so I apologize if some of this fic is a bit melodramatic..y. If my writing does come off this way, please feel free to leave any constructive criticism. It helps me become a better writer so, hopefully, I won't make the same mistakes in the future :)
> 
> Now, I've never written a story using present tense, so there will possibly be some awkwardness or slips. I wanted to go for something that was more immersive, where the audience feels like they're in the character's heads, and present tense seemed the best way to go.
> 
> Also prepare for a lot of swearing. Another note, a few select pieces of dialogue taken from the game will be used. Some will be tweaked a bit as well, to better suit the story.
> 
> Also... ARGH! I had more written but lost most of the chapters -_- Probably wouldn't add too many words to the story, but still very annoying because I liked what I had written so far. But meh, I figured this way, I could figure out early on what the reception would be to this type of story and make possible changes from there on out. I had a plot figured out, where the relationship aspects would be more to the back, but I think I may just make this story totally focused on the relationship between Max and Victoria. I guess if I ever really update this, I'll figure it out as I go along...? Or something?
> 
> Another also... I'm a little iffy on the exact timeframe. It's been awhile since I've played the game or looked up anything related to it, so feel free to point out any possible continuity errors.
> 
> Apologies for the long AN. If I have any more, I'll be including them at the end of the chapters.
> 
> Enjoy.

_Why?_

 

The question echoes within her mind, rebounding off the walls of her skull and creating this roar that leaves her body numb yet feeling all at the same damn time, as if this gigantic hole has been gouged into her heart and filled with lead. And fuck, it hurts, but she just doesn't know what to do. What can she do? To stop this pain, this nothingness that has consumed both her body and soul?

 

_**Together forever, Max.** _

_**LIAR**_ , the gunshot screams.

 

She clutches her ears, takes a sick sort of comfort in the way her pounding heartbeat drowns out the sound of Chloe's body hitting the floor. She swallows back a sob, rocking, as memory after memory plays within her head and spears through her chest. Of simpler times when her and Chloe were just two starry-eyed children, with dreams of being pirates and sailing the seas to conquer the world. Memories. That's all she'll have left of Chloe now, and the reality of that thought knocks the breath from her lungs.

 

Chloe trusted her. _**Trusted**_. This was her chance to fix everything she had totally fucked up, to finally be that supportive presence Chloe had desperately needed in her life. But, of course, the world had other plans. Apparently, altering time or destiny or whatever the fuck causes massive fucking tornadoes to form.

 

And so here she is, sobbing as quietly as she can while Nathan Prescott paces back and forth in front of the bathroom stalls, Chloe's body only feet away.

 

_**Don't you forget about me,**_ Max hears Chloe say over the pounding rain, voice hoarse and raw and full of so much emotion, and God, Max wishes she could take her place. Wishes she could give Chloe that chance she deserves to live a full and happy life.

 

_Wait..._ Max thinks, heart skipping at the realization. _Take her place... I can take her place! Just wait, Chloe. I'll save you._

 

Max lifts her hand, fingers tingling, skin itching to use her power, to turn back time. To take the bullet. To be the sacrifice to set everything right.

 

She stares, waiting, preparing for that nauseating pull. Nothing. She sucks in a breath, focuses harder. _Go back, go back, please please go back._ But Nathan's still babbling, and Chloe's still dead. Her hand hangs in the air. No nausea, no pull, no time turning... She can't go back. Her power... It's gone.

 

She closes her hand, nails digging crescents into her palm as she presses her fist to her mouth and bites down, forcing back the hysterical scream clawing up her throat.

 

_Why? Why did it have to turn out like this?_

_**We have to save the world, Max,** _ Chloe's voice whispers in her head.

 

And Max wants to say 'fuck the world, let it burn', but then she hears the bathroom door slam open.

 

“Hey! What the–” David's voice stutters to a halt, Nathan's whimpers and apologies echoing off the walls.

 

“Oh God, Chloe...” There's a thud, knees falling the the floor. Silence, and her soul shatters as David lets out a heartrending sob. “No... no, no, no. God, Chloe. God... no... please... Chloe...”

 

And then she remembers why. Why she made this choice. Why Chloe wanted her to make this choice. So they could save Arcadia Bay. Save everyone.

 

She sinks her teeth deeper into her skin as David screams at Nathan to get down on the fucking floor.

 

Chloe's dead. Dead dead dead. And Max can't take it anymore, these thoughts swirling in her head and this fucking ache that just won't leave her chest. _It should have been me._ She scrambles to her left for the bucket in the corner and kneels, heaving and gagging and sobbing.

 

“Hey, are you alright?” She flinches at the touch on her shoulder. David clears his throat, though his voice still cracks as he says, “It's... Everything's gonna be okay.”

 

_No, it's not,_ she wants to scream. But instead she gurgles out a pathetic, “I'm sorry.”

 

“Jesus, kid, this isn't...” David pauses, swallows. “Don't go blaming yourself for this, hon.”

 

And she cries harder, bawling as David helps her to her feet. Because it is her fault. All her fucking fault that Chloe is curled up on the fucking bathroom floor dead.

 

And Max is certain she'll never be able to forgive herself for this.

 

_**You're my hero, Max.** _

 

_No,_ Max thinks as she steps over Chloe's lifeless body, _I'm not._

 

And then everything fades to black.

 

 


	2. Victoria

_How?_

 

Victoria presses a hand to her head, brain throbbing as she watches Mark Jefferson being escorted from the school. By police. In handcuffs. His expression is nothing like she's ever seen before. Eyes dark, narrowed, lips drawn together in a face you'd expect to see on a goddamn psychopath. _Which he is,_ she reminds herself.

 

How in the fuck did she not notice all of this? Any of this? But then again, she thinks, Nathan had been acting... strange the past few months. All paranoid and shit to the extreme. Something she had chalked up to his meds and increased drug intake.

 

She closes her eyes, teeth clenching. Her friend... her best friend was a fucking murderer. Possibly more, if the stories were true. She had heard what people were saying. What the police had found. The Dark Room, they dubbed it. It was the type of freaky shit you'd expect out of a fucking horror film. Not something you'd find here, in Arcadia Bay of all places. And then the body... Rachel fucking Amber, dead. Buried in the junkyard.

 

She shakes her head, drops her hand. Lifts her nose and glares as Jeffershit glances her way, and a chill travels through her as his cold eyes sweep over the gawking students.

 

Yeah, sure, Nathan was fucked up. But this man–no, this... thing–took advantage of him. Used him, his insecurities, his illness against him. All to turn him into some... some fucking little minion.

 

Her fingers twitch, fists forming. Godfuckingdammit, she could kill Nathan right now. For allowing this pathetic parasite to sink its tendrils into his brain and warp him into something she knew he wasn't.

 

_I should've noticed something was wrong,_ she thinks. Then, maybe, she could've talked to him. Done something to prevent all this shit from happening.

 

Saliva gathers in her mouth, nausea roiling her stomach. So she looks away. Wills the dark and raging thoughts to the back of her mind as she scans the students.

 

And then she spots her. Max. Standing off to the side, alone, eyes fixed on Jeffershit as he's shoved into the back of the police car.

 

Max had been MIA ever since Chloe Price was... killed. By Nathan. She inwardly cringes. And, fuck, now she remembers. The gossip spreading around school and the whispers in the hallway, about how Caulfield had been hiding in the bathroom when that girl was shot. Which only makes her cringe more. What the fuck do you say to someone, when your best friend murdered someone practically right in front of them? Is she obligated to say something? To apologize on his behalf or some shit?

 

She waits, awkwardly contemplating her options as the students slowly disperse. The nerd boy is the last to go, shuffling over to Max and placing a hand on her arm. Murmuring to her, then offering a hug before she waves him off.

 

Victoria bites the inside of her cheek, before she straightens, marching over to where Max is still standing like a lost little sheep.

 

“Max,” she begins, voice strained, and fuck, why is this so difficult? She clears her throat, hoping to sound less like her teeth are being slowly yanked from her skull as glassy blue eyes turn her way. “I'm sorry.”

 

For a moment, Max blankly stares at her. And Victoria fights the urge to slap herself across the face because, holy shit, could she have been any more ambiguous?

 

But then Max gives her a watery smile, eyes darting to the ground as she rubs her forearm. “It's... not your fault, Victoria. I–” Her voice catches. She takes in a breath, then breathes out a quiet, “But thank you.”

 

An awkward silence falls over them, and Victoria shifts her stance, wondering what else she can say. If there's even anything else she _can_ say. But this ugly ball of guilt is rolling around inside her, layering itself with her anger and regret, and it's growing the longer she stares, and shit, now everything's starting to get blurry. She sniffs, arms crossing. “You're... welcome.” She pauses, drumming her fingers against her arm and blinking against the wetness polling in her eyes. “If you ever need anything, Caulfield, just... find me or whatever.”

 

She turns on her heel, ready to stalk off before she begins crying and lashing out because all these emotions are mixing together inside her, making her feel like some kind of crazy, pathetic, volatile mess, and the last thing she wants to do is bite the traumatized girl's head off.

 

“Victoria, wait!” She stops, wonders if she should just keep walking. But that would go beyond just being a bitch. So she turns halfway towards Max. Hopes the other girl isn't looking too closely at her face. “I-I'm sorry, too. About... Nathan.”

 

Victoria jerks her head, unable to hide her shock as she blurts out an incredulous, “What?”

 

“I just... I know this can't be easy for you either. I mean, you both were, um, close. Right?”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Caulfield,” Victoria snarls, because who the hell does this girl think she is? Taking some sort of high road, turn the other cheek type shit? Acting like she actually cares about what happened to Nathan? “You don't know me, so don't fucking act like you do.”

 

Victoria turns sharply and storms off, wiping at her eyes and hoping they aren't too puffy or makeup smeared if anyone sees her. And dammit, she should've just walked away. Feigned momentary hearing loss when Max called out to her. But, of course, she had to stop and listen, and then the little hipster trash had to go and act all fucking goody two shoes.

 

_Sorry about Nathan. Yeah, right. Fucking liar._

 

He'll become another demonized statistic by the media. Another trigger-happy, mentally ill punk with a gun. And she'll become the oblivious best friend who failed to notice anything was wrong.

 

She barks out a hollow laugh, already knows what her fellow classmates will be saying behind her back. Victoria Chase, best friend of murdering scumbag Nathan. And, oh, won't her parents be absolutely thrilled when they hear about this!

 

And a part of her can't help but feel that she deserves everything she knows is about to come her way.

 


	3. Max

Max jolts, stumbling a few steps as her consciousness slams back into her body. She sucks in a breath, blinking at the sunset and clear beach as she realizes where she is. _The lighthouse... And the tornado, it's gone. Why...?_ She quickly looks down, heart lodging into her throat as she shakily touches the black dress she's wearing.

 

And then she's frantically clawing at the material, patting and searching for her phone. Fumbling and nearly dropping it like a total dunce when she finally finds it. She looks. Friday. Then glances through her messages. Dad, Mom, Dana, Warren, Kate. And Joyce.

 

She pauses, thumb hovering over the name, unsure if she really wants to see. To have her fears confirmed. She forces out a shaky breath and opens the conversation. _Hello, Max... wanted to thank you again for... apologize for not calling but... Chloe's funeral._

 

Max falters, eyes squeezing shut, and she whimpers as she collapses to her knees, head bowed and shoulders slumped, phone tightly clutched within her clammy palms. _She's really... Oh God, no... No, no, I can't do this._ And then she's crying, throwing her head back and screaming so hard her vocal chords feel as if they're about to snap. Because Chloe's dead. Gone forever. And she just sat there and let it happen. All because it was the 'right' thing to do. She slams a fist into the ground, over and over and over until her hand is throbbing from the pain, screeching until her voice is breaking within her throat. How could she? How could she do this to her best friend? But it was Chloe. Chloe had asked her. Chloe had forced her to make this choice. She hates Chloe. She hates the world, hates herself, hates everything. Hates hates hates.

 

It feels like hours have gone by when she finally stops and cradles her hand to her chest, skin bruised and covered with dirt. But the pain does nothing to soothe the anger she still feels, the rage that's begging to be let out.

 

She takes in a breath, slowly releases it. Then looks back down at her phone as she wipes the tears from her eyes. She needs to pull herself together, to find out what happened after...

 

_God, just stop thinking, Max. Okay, Google... What happened to that sick asshole?_

 

Mark Jefferson. Arrested Tuesday after confession from Blackwell murderer, Nathan Prescott, reveals location of what the authorities have been calling “the Dark Room”. Missing girl, Rachel Amber, found dead and buried in junkyard, another poor victim of Jefferson's twisted obsessions. Sean Prescott now under investigation for providing funds linked to Dark Room's construction.

 

_So that's it?_ She thinks, fingers curling. _Chloe dies and then everything falls oh-so perfectly into place?_ Jefferson, in jail awaiting trial. Nathan, stuck in a psych ward. And the Prescott business, now being picked apart by police.

 

“Why?” Max clambers to her feet, glaring at the clear sky, the calm sea, the sparkling beach, the perfect everything. “Why did Chloe have to _die_?”

 

And she can't help but feel that the world is mocking her, outright laughing at her. As if she was simply granted this 'gift' to be some form of sick entertainment for the powers that be. Why else would she be given something that only fucks everything up when it's used?

 

Max lifts her hand again, wonders if maybe she can still rewind. She was thrust back to the present, so she figures she could try again. But then she pauses, thinks. Arcadia Bay is fine now. No snow or apocalyptic events of any sort are occurring. It's as if she had never messed with time. As if everything is exactly how it was meant to be.

 

Her hand drops to her side. _Chloe was right._ The thought numbs her, makes her feel as if she's been dragged beneath the ocean by a tide. Suspended underwater with no knowledge of how to swim. And no matter how hard she tries to reach the surface, she's fated to be pulled back down over and over again.

 

Exhaustion weighs heavily on her shoulders. She's done fighting. Because if things are meant to be, then they must happen. Trying to fix something only makes it worse. Which means she needs to be careful, maybe even leave Blackwell and return to Seattle. Because she knows things she shouldn't know about people here. Will she alter reality again if she acts on this knowledge? If she uses it to befriend people she wouldn't be able to befriend otherwise? To help people she wouldn't be able to help otherwise?

 

She jumps, phone nearly slipping from her grasp when it suddenly begins to ring. She checks the screen. _Kate._

 

“Hey,” she begins but cringes at how gravelly her voice sounds. She clears her throat. Tries again, “Hey, Kate.”

 

“Max, are you all–um, your voice–”

 

“I'm fine, Kate.” The words are hollow, even to her own ears. “Sorry if I worried you.”

 

“You don't need to apologize, Max.” Kate's voice is soft and full of concern, drifting through the phone and coiling around Max's throat. “I know you said you were going to stop by the lighthouse, but...” There's a pause, and then Kate continues hesitantly, “The procession...”

 

“Uh, right,” Max chokes out. She closes her eyes, takes a few breaths, hand shaking from how tightly she's gripping the phone. “I-I'm on my way.”

 

“Okay, Max.”

 

The phone goes silent. She puts it away, scrubs at her hand and knees until the dirt's gone, cursing and flinching as she inspects the bruise forming on her skin.

 

_Yet another thing you didn't think through, dumbass._

 

Max sighs, looks up one last time to glare at the perfect scenery.

 

_Fuck you, world._

 

Then she turns and walks away with what feels like the weight of the world on her shoulders.

 

_**Fuck you, too, Max.** _

 


	4. Victoria

The day is nothing like you see in the movies or read in books, where the skies are dark and cloudy and pouring down rain, perfectly mirroring the turbulent emotions that come with loss.

No, this day is nothing like that. With its clear skies, calm breeze, and beautiful sunset… It just doesn't belong.

Victoria doesn't belong.

_Why am I even here?_

She forces out a breath as she continues walking along the graveyard path, glancing at the backs of the other attendants in front of her, half whose faces she's only seen in passing and the other half being people she has never really been on friendly terms with. Add a dash of those she has targeted in the past and… well, it makes for an extremely fucking awkward experience. Not to mention the stilted greetings she shared with a select few and how she could barely even meet Mrs. Price's eyes when the poor woman had attempted to thank her for coming.

It's just… she can't help but feel like she's an intruder here. Encroaching upon a space that she was never meant to be a part of. Because Chloe Price wasn't-hadn't been her friend. Especially considering how she became so glued to that-to Rachel's side. It just wasn't going to happen. And it never did. For reasons she definitely does not want to think about right now.

Which brings her right back to her question: _why am I here?_

Was it to make amends for something she didn't even do? An attempt to help soothe the guilt that still tossed her stomach every night? Or maybe…

Victoria chances a look over her shoulder. Takes in the slumped shoulders and vacant expression of Max Caulfield. The girl who had seemed to be smiling so much easier just this morning, only to arrive in this zombie-like state.

She snaps her gaze away just as Max begins to raise her head, absently wonders if maybe she should slow her pace. If she should say something to her. But then she remembers how their last 'talk' went and decides maybe keeping her distance is for the best. Especially considering the fact that it was her best friend who apparently murdered Max's old one. Not exactly good conversation material.

_It's not like we're friends anyway._

She looks back ahead, shuffles awkwardly to a spot at the foot of Chloe Price's coffin. Gazes at its sleek surface, stomach knotting as Mrs. Price's quiet sobs reach her ears. A mother putting her child into the ground. And Victoria feels her lips tremble as the priest begins to speak. Because her best friend put Chloe there. And she can't help but feel that if she had been there for Nathan, maybe he and Chloe both would still be here.

There's a flash of movement in her peripherals, and she blinks as a blue butterfly lifts and dips through the air, gently descending until it lands atop the coffin. And she can't help but think that it would make a hauntingly beautiful picture. _**Always take the shot.**_ She clenches her teeth and shuts her eyes, sucks in a breath as the sickeningly familiar phrase echoes within her head. In _his_ voice.

She chews at her lip, eyes blinking open to glance at the other attendees. Distracts herself by wondering if anyone else has caught sight of the strange butterfly that's perched upon the coffin as if it belongs there. But they don't seem to notice. Other than...

Her gaze zeroes in on Max, who's staring wide-eyed at the bug, lips slightly parted. An expression that seems to be a mix between awe and horror. And Victoria faintly wonders what's going through her head. Until Max's empty eyes meet hers.

Victoria quickly looks away and wishes she didn't care.

As the funeral comes to a close, Victoria is the first to leave. She locks the door to her room and collapses on her bed. She thinks about Nathan, wonders what he's doing right now. If she should go see him. Say to hell with her parents and the Chase name. But, then again, maybe they were right.

She sighs and grabs her pillow, hugs it to her chest as she stares at the ceiling. The press had been like vultures, flocking to the school and questioning anyone they could. Principal Wells had, thankfully, kicked them off campus, but even then, they found a way. Her social media accounts and phone had been blown up by messages, requests for interviews and the like after they had found the pictures and posts she had tagged Nathan in. Which she had gone ahead and deleted, but it didn't matter; the damage had already been done. She hugs her pillow tighter. To think she had dreamt of the day that newspapers would be publishing articles with her name… But now, that dream seems so juvenile.

Victoria curls on her side and squeezes her eyes shut. She just doesn't know what to do. Her best friend is a murderer. A sick freak who practically fucking delivered drugged girls to Jefferson. And Kate… Her insides twist, body shaking with muted sobs. She saw Kate that night. Recorded her and made her life a living hell all because she was jealous of the teacher's pet. And, of course, Kate would turn out to be another one of Jefferson's victims. And when Victoria had apologized, Kate had simply smiled.

"I forgive you, Victoria."

Just like that, and Victoria had to walk away. Because how could she? How could Kate forgive her after all the shit she put her through? How could she forgive her when Victoria couldn't and still can't forgive herself?

_God, I'm so fucking pathetic._

And she needs to see Nathan. Find out why he did it. Get some closure on at least one thing before she fucking loses her mind in this cesspit of emotion that's starting to poison her every waking thought.

But right now, she feels drained. Tired. She just needs to rest a moment, to wait for the tears to stop running. The sobs to die down.

Just.  
Needs-

Victoria startles awake, eyes blinking as she takes in her dark room. Someone's knocking at her door. She looks down at her phone. 10:23 PM.

_Fuck! I can't believe I fucking fell asleep!_

"Hold on!"

She hastily sits up. Wipes her eyes and runs a hand through her hair before she answers the door. She scowls in confusion at the girl shifting from foot to foot in front of her.

"Um, hello, Victoria."

"Kate?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to do more with this chapter but decided to just say "screw it" and toss it up since it's been laying around forever.
> 
> I tried to do some research on people who have been close to would-be murderers and the like but it's hard to find any info. So if Victoria seems really over the top dramatic, apologies. Trying to get into her head is difficult, especially since we rarely ever got to see the softer and more vulnerable sides of her. Or how her family even functions.
> 
> Anyway, until next time. Whenever that is.


End file.
